


That Which We Tried to Bury (To Rise to the Surface Again)

by Aggression



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Alien Mythology/Religion, And from the Aligned continuity, Canonical Character Death, Greek-God-Style Incest, Inspired by Orpheus and Eurydice (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Inspired by Sir Orfeo, M/M, Meddling Gods, Mortal Injury, Pulls from IDW, Rebirth, Reconciliation, Reincarnation, Self-Inflicted Injury, Sibling Incest, This fic is literally a hot mess, and then it went off the rails, well technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 05:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21404677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aggression/pseuds/Aggression
Summary: Shockwave is called to the centre of Cybertron by no-longer-silent gods. Prices are to be paid for possible futures, for a single dead bot and the whole species alike.
Relationships: Blurr/Longarm Prime | Shockwave
Comments: 3
Kudos: 36





	That Which We Tried to Bury (To Rise to the Surface Again)

**Author's Note:**

> Listen... I'm going to be honest the romance was supposed to be way more relevant but this is also a story I started after Tfcon Toronto 2018 and I'm only posting now. So... safe to say this story has been on its own journey, and I'm literally just cutting myself off and posting so it can exist and stop stewing in my files. I'm still really happy with the ideas in it. I kind of want to play with the clash of Greek/fantasy-inspired mythology-against-science-fiction-robots more in the future, if I have time. 
> 
> This is also a weird experimental disaster at the start - blame the Annihilation Trilogy for that because I was in the middle of that when starting this oneshot. 
> 
> And speaking of stewing, if you're waiting for me to finish posting my big bang piece: I'm sorry I've decided the ending needs rewrites so I probably won't finish that until January, since then I can give it good TLC over my Christmas break. 
> 
> Also, nic - roughly the equivalent of a Cybetronian inch.

_"And in death we'll live the love we never had."_

_When the Lights are Down by Kamelot_

***

_"'Nay!" quath the king, 'that nought nere!'_

_A sori couple of you it were,_

_For thou art lene, rowe and blac,_

_And sche is lovesum, withouten lac; _

_A lothlich thing it were, forthi,_

_To sen hir in thi compayni.'"_

_Sir Ofreo 457-462._

***

The gullet of Cybertron was cavernous. Shockwave wondered if the bowels would be the same.

He began his descent. Down and down he went. As was required of his repentance.

No, no. This was not a repentance. That implied some sort of guilt. _ Some fault. _ Shockwave felt neither. He did feel regret.

This was not repentance. This was a price. A test?

Down and down. He knew he had to continue down. He did not know much about the core of Cybertron. However, he was not a fool. He knew enough. 

He was a mech of science and rational. He would not ignore the facts of Cybertron’s existence. 

Cybertron was Primus. They had spent millennia fighting over a god who had not once in that time acknowledge its children’s existence. Cybertron’s living core, one that gave off empirical energy and magnetic readings, was Primus’ inert core of a god that did not care. And yet the spark within the planet called to him, and Shockwave would answer. For if anything he had to know if Primus still existed in any form, and if any will remained in what had once given life. 

Down and down, deeper and deeper. Shockwave did not know what transpired upon the surface; had had been fully focused on staying hidden after escaping Trypticon Prison. He had been hiding within the underbelly of Iacon when the urging had come. 

Though it pained him to leave his Lord to the Autobots’ clutches, Shockwave knew this was important. It was only impressions in his spark, but who was he to try and understand a god’s words? _ These are a god’s words. _

He would try. He would always try, but their faction and way of life was on a precipice and time was a luxury he did not have. _ This felt right. This had to be done. _

Shockwave had to prove himself worthy. He had to prove them all worthy. This had to be done. Charismatic speeches, grandstanding, impactful and flashes actions, those were Megatron’s department of expertise. His Lord could inspire a crowd from nothing, just his voice alone. Shockwave did what was needed, but it was work that would not see quick consequence, and slower recognition, like living as an Autobot for millennia. He had to hope at least the consequences of this risk would pay off soon. Somehow, he would save Megatron and the other generals. 

He had no measurement of the distance he travelled; he did not bother keeping track. Instead, Shockwave focused his instruments towards navigating the terrain, working in total darkness. He did well, for being a mech who had never been specced to working underground, but that also meant he had limits. Shockwave could map the terrain, using an echolocation mod that usually served him while navigating unknown buildings and spaces when gathering intelligence. The mod told him nothing at all about floor stability. 

The floor opened beneath him. Darkness rushed and swallowed. Shockwave felt true disorientation for the first time since starting this journey. The weightlessness of free falling had come so suddenly that his instruments spasmed, and directionality disappeared momentarily. 

_ Here might be where I fail_. 

It was mere nano-kliks. Then it shattered.

Weight and physicality returned as his pedes slammed into the floor. Leg struts buckled and groaned, and Shockwave had no chance to steady himself. He crumpled.

Shockwave felt like his leg struts had been forcibly reformatted, like someone had come by, grabbing them to fold them into themselves as if they were made of sheet metal. _ Did Blurr feel like this? Was it ten-fold, a hundred-fold, as his whole body was demolished? _

Through the pain, one more thought. _ I can not fail. _

Not weightlessness overtook Shockwave this time, but unconsciousness. 

***

Shockwave rebooted.

Fire, burning away, as if peeling at the paint of his leg struts. A constant burn that made him want to rake his claws through his protoform.

His optic doubled as a headlamp. A beam of red cut through the black, illuminating the damage to his legs. A web of cracked plating, pink energon oozing through, one strut sticking out sideways. It somehow avoided tearing through the treads on that leg.

Continuing in bipedal form was no longer an option.

The pain had to be intentional this time. He tore through his transformation sequence as he tore through protoform. Plating and struts grinded against each other. Energon flew through the air as his body rearranged itself. The last pieces of plating that protected the connections between his canon mount to his four support-legs clicked into place. He wanted to wretch the little fuel that remained in his tank, but that was impossible in this form. 

Shockwave’s bipedal legs were the back supports in alt-mode. As a canon he could move slowly. Movement in this form was usually only needed to cover small increments to adjust his sights. This would be the longest trek taken as a canon by far. 

Numbness began to set in. He could not move his back supports. He may have done something grossly irreparable to them as he had transformed. 

No matter. He did not need them to move of their own violation. The struts were cracked, but not utterly destroyed. His treads remained intact and in place. They could rotate, even if Shockwave’s processor could not command them to do so. 

Shockwave began to propel himself forward, using his front struts to pull against the practically-dead back struts. The treads worked. Each nic forward felt like a minor victory.

Time was said to be Vector Sigma’s domain. Shockwave wondered if many Autobots knew the truth about Vector Sigma. Not even religion was safe from the poison of Autobot control and propaganda. Shockwave had never bothered to take the chance to investigate how much the Autobot government edited scriptures before feeding them to the unknowing populace. 

The Decepticons knew Vector Sigma. Even a ‘Con like Shockwave, who had no patience for the mysticism of religion, knew the facts of their existence.

Time _ was _ Vector Sigma’s domain. That is why Vector Sigma could create life. That-which-was-once-a-he gave life because it gave time. A measure of existence. A period of experience that would eventually be taken away.

Shockwave’s spark still spun, delirious as pain continued to consume his being. It was so strong that he forsaked sensation, cutting off acknowledgement of readings of any kind from his lower body. The struts had remained numb, but the protoform had regained feeling, and the lack of mobility from the supports was pulling on his back. The treads on his front supports ached, becoming worn from carrying twice their normal load. 

The dead weight, another burden.

Shockwave knew why he still had time. He had not earned his chance at death, at relief. Not yet.

The spectre of Vector Sigma was impartial, managing millions and billions of clocks. They all existed underneath his gaze. 

Mortilus smiled, grinned with too much dentae. Part of his face plates gone, internals on display. 

“_ I do not fear my interior. I will not hide it. It is a part of me as is everything else. Can you accept everything that is a part of yourself until I come? I believe ‘no.’ Should I deny my gift until you do?” _

_ “Accept who you are and then you will be worthy of my gift.” _

Vector next. Time was different within Cybertron. No cycles, no schedules. The silent tunnels and caverns allowed Shockwave to hear every whirl of his spark. It had a rhythm of its own. 

_ “The cycles of your spark are a measure of time in their own right. It will always keep Time for you.” _

Ghosts. Not ghosts. Impressions of beings beyond his comprehension. Facsimiles that could whisper in his audials. _ “Accept who you are.” _ What a useless notion. It did not matter who Shockwave was; it had not for millennia. What mattered was what Shockwave _ did. _

How much time had passed? How many whorls of his spark? Turns of his treads? Continue, continue, he had to push forward, downward. Red light before him as his headlight illuminated the path, one more direct and linear than any underground path had the right to be. If Shockwave looked back, he would see the pink glow he left trailing behind him, when movements would momentarily reopen a wound in his back supports, allowing energon to slip out before his body managed to seal the leak. 

He did not look back. The spectre of Vector Sigma loomed, not intimidating but encompassing, pressing upon his mind a distraction. Was it meant to be a distraction? The god did not address him, and Shockwave felt as if he had been forgotten, the spectre of Vector Sigma only with him because this was where his power rested for this moment. 

Nevertheless, Shockwave saw what he believed was recorded in scripture (so rarely did he bother to remember exact tales of Primus and his first children) as a vision seemingly directly placed within his processors. 

_ After the Fallen had struck down Solus, Prima had held her sister-lover’s body, curling around her, shielding her as the last embers of her spark extinguished. Prima cried, violently lurching as the pain and loss resonated within her own spark, their bond - the gift they had earned together from their creator - breaking. _

_Solus’ frame greyed and Prima held vigil, what felt like an eternity passing as she fought against accepting the loss. She would not accept the loss. _ We come from the Well and return to the Well. _ She had never been told the fate that awaited her or any of her siblings after death, but in that moment Prima knew that was the truth._

_ Prima left Solus’ body for a brief moment to retrieve Solus’ hammer, which had slipped from her sister’s grasp as her brother committed his betrayal. She gathered Solus in her arms, gentle even if it was a husk without sensation. The sword Solus had lovingly and carefully crafted for Prima shifted at her hip as she lifted her sister’s body, cradling the drastically smaller frame against her own chest. _

_ Prima set off, trudging her way down to the Well, a place none of her siblings had returned to after their birth. The journey was both long and short, the body of their creator shifting around her. The path was treacherous; Primus’ moving plates caught at her pedes, tearing at the soles. As Prima marched she left a trail of energon pedeprints behind herself... _

There was pressure, an immense pressure within Shockwave’s processor as knowledge was forced upon it. He shook and trembled with the pain, but did not pause in his journey, the linear path a true blessing as he had no ability to truly acknowledge his surroundings. Prima’s journey continued to play within his processor, but he failed to retain much more of it, only just…

..._ she stared at the Great Spark, resolution burning in her optics as she realized what she must do. Prima set her sister-lover down, arranging her as if she was only in recharge. The First-Born reached to her hip, pulling her sword from her scabbard. _

_ She grabbed it by the blade, ignoring the bite of the edge as it dug into her palms. She thrust it forward into the Great Spark, pommel first, not an attack but an offering. The sword - made only for her, attuned to her with a piece of her own spark living within the cross-guard. Prima felt that piece leave her entirely, retaking its place within the Well - in the Great Spark they all came from. _

_ Prima threw into the Well a part of herself, and from that moment existed both within and without of it. She knew the Well, in a way that none of her siblings ever would. _This can only be allowed when the right is earned.

_ Prima paid her price. She reached into the Well, burning with light and life, and pulled out Solus’ spark. _

The vision ended and Shockwave collapsed.

***

Light — all-encompassing, all surrounding. No sense of direction, no feeling of anything above, below, or around him. It was not emptiness, it is just that nothing existed within this space in any physical sense, and Blurr felt no fear at this notion. Felt no fear as he recognized that he did not physically exist either.

There was only light, and the feeling that everything around him experienced pure emotion. It was not shared through the brush of EM fields — Blurr no longer had one — but through what he imagined as a connection, one shared and open between everyone and everything within that light. Existence within one and another. 

Slowly, he began to feel a fading of his own consciousness. He still existed, and a part of himself remembered how to exist as a singular being, but he did not _ have to _exist that way. Not here. Blurr came to the distinct understanding that he can float in and out, if he so wished. 

Time had no importance, not here, but eventually, Blurr noticed a change. There was a presence, a pressure around him, at least around what existed as Blurr in that moment. Suddenly, Blurr became aware of himself, a single spark floating in endless, warm light, and he became the most separate he had been from the otherness around him since joining it.

The presence singled him out, he understood that much as he was being observed, gently grasped, and then gathered into outstretched palms, far larger than even those of an Omega Sentinel's. _ But what is an Omega Sentinel? _Fear crept into Blurr’s spark as he realized that he has no understanding of the situation, barely an understanding of himself. 

_ “Here, up and out with you, even if only briefly. _

_ You have to prove yourself too. This right must be EARNED.” _

Pain, pain that was not pain because it did not hurt but was overwhelming. Shocking sensory overload caused by having been senseless for so long. Blurr still felt as if he was not real, not physical, a ball of glowing light and energy. But there was a world around him now, even if it his not his. There was the repetitive sound of a hammer. There was the crackle of fire, shadows thrown against the wall, stretching the shadow of the femme bent over the workbench to being three times her size. 

Someone, twice the height of the hammering femme, held Blurr, still gently cradling his spark within their palms. 

For awhile, nothing changed. The femme worked, and Blurr and the other waited. Blurr wished desperately for the ability to speak, to babble like he once did. He would pour his words into the room, constant and dizzying as if they could fill the space, drown out the hammer and the fire. Nervousness ate as his mind, and he wondered if his spark was vibrating within the palms of the other because he must have been dispelling his anxious energy in some form. 

_ “Oh, Prima.” _

The femme glanced back, sighting the other. Blurr’s being swirled. _ Prima? Honest to life below, the First-Born Prima? _No bot was allowed to use that name as their own; it was sacrilege. If he was held by Prima, then the other must have been…

_ “Nice to see you back from your work, Solus.” _

_ “The spark’s good yeah? The right one.” _

_ “Aye.” _

_ “It better be; it needs to be. I’ve remade the body perfectly, measured out the needed protoform to match how much he had at his death, and so no other spark will manage to power it now.” _

Solus set her Hammer down. Blurr realized he had no understanding of how he could see as he thought that she was smaller than he expected. _ Can anyone perfectly recreate a body? But I shouldn’t underestimate the weapon of a demi-god-turned-god, especially not the one of the goddess of the forge Herself. _

Oddly enough (to those from outside of it at least) Velocitron prayed heavily to Solus. A well-forged body was needed become a well-made racer. Blurr remembered the day he had first onlined his optics, had stepped away from the medical berth to say a prayer to the mural of Solus on the First-Onlining room’s wall. _ Speed, grace, the givings of a well-made body, to make me into a well-made being. _He was jolted from the memory as Prima passed his spark to Solus.

Bright, bright blue optics stared down at him. A small smile graced her faceplates, light dancing in those optics. She strode over to the workbench, and Blurr realized that he was looking at himself. A blue shell, and empty husk with a lump of protoform resting within the chest plates. 

Fear spiked within Blurr as he realized how _ wrong _ it was so see his body in perfection condition. He realized what had happened. _ I’m dead I’m dead I’m not supposed to look at this I’m crushed and dead I’ll never race again I’M DEAD I’M GOING TO MURDER THAT TRAITOR HE DID THIS __HOW COULD HE DO THIS TO ME?_

Cracked, crushed, destroyed. He had been left a fraction of himself to slowly gutter out within the very gutters. Down the chute and amongst the trash in slow, lonely agony.

Blurr was working himself into a tizzy when Solus’ words cut through his internal raving. 

_ “What a fine body - the most challenging thing I’ve had to recreate in awhile. Do your medics understand yet what the spark does to the body? To the protoform? A spark can online into any type of body as long as it can handle the size _ _ — _ _ when it’s a new spark. But you, one old and who’s lived life, shaped the body around that life, you can’t take just any body now. You need your own. You’ve unconsciously crafted the armour and the protoform, the struts and wiring, to match the capabilities of your spark. _

_ Oh, and isn’t yours _ special _ . No mortal medic could have recreated a body for you that would be able to handle the true scope of your capabilities. You could defy their understanding of science.” _

Solus took Blurr’s spark, hovered her cupped servos above his chest plates. She opened them, and he fell, not quickly but slowly floated, like metallico-leaves from rust-bark trees breaking off into the wind. The fresh protoform reacted instantly, moving up and away from his spark, quickly forming the spark-casing before spreading out through the rest of his body. 

His systems onlined immediately and it felt like as if he has jerked suddenly out of recharge. It felt right — as if he had never left his body, had never died. He was sitting up when he heard a “sorry.”

That was the only warning he had before the room was filled with a clang — the sound of Solus’ hammer banging off of his helm, forcing him offline. 

***

_ “Will you earn this right?” _

Blurr was thrown from burning heat. Two nano-kliks of flight and then he hit the floor, failing to catch himself on his pedes. He managed to react though, and rolled to gentle the blow, and came up standing within a cavern. 

The space pulsed, two-fold. The Great Spark whirled behind him, and a part of Blurr immediately yearned to return to it, through it to journey back to the Well of Allsparks to constant warmth and light and connected being. The walls also seemed alive, scrawl of Primal Vernacular glowing, shifting in intensity and colours, chronicling so much that Blurr couldn’t understand — the language only known to the longest serving attendants of Vector Sigma and the other artifacts that the government kept “safe and protected” from the “careless servos” of the general populace. 

It was only momentarily overwhelming. Even when coming back from death his training kicked back in, and he shifted into a defensive posture as he took stock of the rest of the room.

Nothing else, except the body of a Decepticon bleeding out on the floor. 

Broken, devastated — Shockwave’s body was a mangled wreck, a mass of twisted metal. His canon remained mostly intact, but all of his treads were shredded, overworked. Blurr could see the trail of energon the destroyed half of Shockwave’s body had made as he had dragged himself into the room. 

All that, and yet Blurr knew the Decepticon still was not as broken as he had been. Death would come for him the same, and Blurr sat beside the body, not helping nor harming the other. It would be revenge enough to watch Shockwave gutter out. 

Blurr had trained in sadism, territory that had come with his job, but he was not sadistic. However, he would not help Shockwave. The liar didn’t deserve mercy. 

_ “He did his job, did he not?” _

Realization clicked into place and Prima’s presence materialized beside him. Prima, holder of the Matrix of Leadership — once the maker of Primes that had been lost to the eons — was a warbuild. Far larger than he, larger than Shockwave, taller and as wide as Megatron. Blurr’s spark flickered with warmth as it remember being held by the First Prime. 

_ “This can count towards your work too, technically. Letting him bleed out. But any information he holds would be worth more to your commanders though, would it not?” _

“As far as I know, _ he is _ my commander.”

_ “As far as you know, young spark.” _

Blurr spied Prima from the peripherals of his optics. He tried to, at least, but there was something indistinct about her form. 

_ “Meet me optic to optic if you wish to see.” _

Prima — virtuous of bravery, and dedication. She who enacted Primus’ will and striked fear in the sparks of Cybertron’s enemies, as it was said. A symbol of order. The face of Autobot governance to remind them that they all worked in the name of a higher cause. _ What a good symbol for instilling compliance. _

Blurr turned and Prima’s face plates were as stern as he expected. Two dark lines cut her cheeks down from her optics like running oil. Her helm was stark red against the off-white of her face plates, two panels resembling the wings of the Elite Guard insignia jutting up and out to form a crested profile. Her armour was a mix of red, off-white, and gold and etched with unfilled lines of Primal Vernacular. She nodded, and then motioned Blurr to turn back to face Shockwave again.

_ “Watch.” _

There was the image of transformation, but the sound was muffled. The spectre of Shockwave stood up from his body, his large spark glowing weakly in the middle of it. The colours of Shockwave’s plating had faded, all of him a faint blue lighter than the glow of a spark. Blurr was taking in the lines of his frame when another presence appeared. 

Mortilus. Blurr knew who it was immediately. Not because he guess from the towering frame or the horrifying visage of his mutilated helm, but because he had met the god of death before. The two spectres did not acknowledge Blurr or Prima.

_ “As I told you before, only those who accept their self are able to accept my gift. Know your soul, and pass into the Well of Allsparks. Be unwilling to reveal your soul, and linger here until you do.” _

Blurr knew what the god was going to ask of Shockwave before he did, for he had answered the question himself before.

_ “As you leave this life, what regret or regrets shall you leave in this world?” _

He remembered his answer immediately. The desire that he had not acted upon out of a commitment to duty, that remained with him in those final moments even as it had been ripped away from him right before his death. _ I regret not taking a chance at a stolen happiness for myself. _

Shockwave did not answer immediately. Silence hung in the air, and though Blurr knew that Shockwave would not hear him, and Mortilus would not acknowledge him if he spoke, and so he matched that silence.

Blurr had to strain his audials as Shockwave spoke, but he did not miss one of the Decepticon’s words. 

“I regret not seeing warbuilds living back on our home, and not seeing the twists of Autobot lies taken out of Cybertronian society. I regret not doing more to protect Cybertron while I was hidden on her, as I know there are enemies lying in wait for both sides of our war to grind each other down to nothing.”

Shockwave stopped, and Blurr expected Mortilus to nod his confirmation that he had heard the confessions. The god remained still, did not whisk the other’s spark away.   
  
“I’m… angry that the one spark I know that would have felt right beside my own belonged civilian frame, and yet he was amazing for it.”

Blurr’s thought processes stalled, his sparkbeat fluttering. 

_ “Do you know why you are here?” _

Shockwave’s voice was even. “An unknown reasoning came to my processor. My spark told me this was a chance to make things right.”

_ “Will you give your life for it?” _

“Have I not already?”

_ “The Forge of Solus will give back one body here today, accept it and leave with as little as you brought with you.” _

_ He’s lying. Why is Mortalus lying? _If the Forge would only give back one body, then that was Blurr’s was it not? He certainly was alive again. Blurr’s intake opened, but confliction from Shockwave’s betrayal froze his vocalizer. 

Silence, and then —

“He will bring back something important won’t he?”

_ “Possibly.” _

Shockwave’s attena twitched. “He is not one to fail. Very well.” 

The image of Shockwave dissolved, coalescing into his spark, which Mortilus took in servo.

Prima’s servo reached out, gripping his shoulder. _ “Do you believe he deserves mercy? A second chance?” _

“He crushed me and left me to gutter out.”

_“He travelled to the core of Cybertron with two useless limbs. He tore himself to shreds”_

“How does that resolve what he did to me?”

_ “Maybe it doesn’t, but that is not what I’m asking of you. Will you give him mercy?” _

The smell of energon still hung in the air. Shockwave’s frame began to grey, a disgusting heap of torn metal. 

Blurr imagined that he must have looked similar as he died, sad and unrecognizable. He thought of the warmth and peace of the Well of Allsparks, and how he had never known that kind of peace in life. 

Blurr realized how tragic that was. 

He turned to look Prima in the optic. “Honestly, I’m not sure I say he deserves mercy but… a part of me, a part of me that admittedly is still being selfish, would give it right now. Not because he deserves it, but in this moment by saying that I can give him mercy I can pretend to be a better bot than I actually am.” 

A small smile lit Prima’s face, her optics glowing brighter. _ “That is enough, young one. Change is change, especially when you are all so deeply mired within your conflicts.” _

Prima nodded to Mortalis, and the God of Death tossed Shockwave’s spark to her as if he was playing lob ball. Blurr’s tanked churned at the carelessness. Mortilus only grinned at him before fading away. 

“Mortilus said the Forge of Solus would only bring back one body today.”

_ “Aye. My sister will not be creating another body. However, Shockwave’s body is right here, broken and battered, but still something that can be repaired.” _ Prima gestured to the core. _ “Reach into our creator’s spark, though it to the Well He supplies. See if you bring anything forth.” _

Blurr did as he was told. It was warm, as like the afterlife, but then, the further he reached into it, the hotter it got. He feared his plating melting — it felt like his plating was melting, being taken from him so soon after it was returned — but he also felt Prima’s optics on his back, burning their own holes into his being. He would not fail in front of her, even if he did not understand exactly what he was doing.

Blurr reached and reached, and finally, his the tips of his digits brushed _ something. _Instantly, he knew this was what he was searching for; Blurr grasped a handle, and pulled, straining, running the tires built into his pedes backwards for all of the force he could muster. 

Finally, whatever it was sprung free, and Blurr landed haphazardly on his aft. He shook his helm, staring at the item in his servos for a moment before he went still with shock.

It was pristine, immaculately symmetrical, one elegant handle on either side of the treasure nestled in the center. Metal gleaming and the inner core the metal protected shining and whirling. It thrummed, and that feeling spread through his whole being, his spark spinning with joy at a feeling it somehow knew but had never thought it would experience. 

It was by the Matrix of Leadership, the honest-to-Primus Matrix that Prima herself had earned and gifted to all Cybertronians, and Blurr felt an instinctual flicker of hope. 

He turned to the goddess, an eagerness he had never heard before colouring his voice. “We will have a Prime again?”

_ “You will have Thirteen Primes again. Though often the Matrix Bearer and their Lord High Protector lead, Cybertron flourishes the most when they are checked and balanced by the others. A Council that eliminates weakness, that serves to protect all Cybertronians, not one that only bands together to serve shared selfish goals as your current Senate does, or as Decepticon High Command currently does.” _

Blurr stared into the center of the Matrix. “No division. Civilian and warframes working together again. That’s the price, right?”

Prima nodded._ “You must all change for the better. It will be proven that Cybertronians can, first at a small scale, if you manage to heal him.” She inclined her helm to Shockwave’s body. _

Blurr hesitated. “What about the Protector? Cybertron, no, the Autobots of Cybertron won’t accept a Protector. Their system has placed one leader above all others for so long. And I doubt the Decepticons will accept a Prime.”

_ “Aye, but colonies like yours teach ancient history properly. Even us original children had our thirteen members. Neither yours nor Shockwave’s part shall end in this when the Matrix accepts a Bearer. They will have to accept much more, or nothing at all.” _

The Matrix pulsed in Blurr’s servos. Briefly, Blurr felt a connection within his mind, intelligence with intention. _All, represented by a group made of many. _He glanced down at the relic. “First thing’s first then? There’ll be a lot of work to do.”

Prima grinned. _ “You two accomplished much in not the name of Autobots or Decepticons, but for the protection of Cybertron as home, even when Shockwave had to constantly lie to you, even if he felt that not enough was done. Your jobs forced you to to see threats beyond our own people, and Shockwave knew that you could do some that which he could not. That is why you two were picked to bring back the Matrix. Prove that Cybetronians can work together again." _

More thoughts from the Matrix. _ Must. Must. Cybertron and colonies safer when united. Cybertronians better when united. _

Blurr adjusted his grip, holding the Matrix in front of him with both servos as he approached Shockwave’s body. “The first step then.”

_ Healing must begin somewhere. _

Blurr agreed.

Blurr stepped forward, and looked down at Shockwave’s body, the one he never had gotten a good look at. His instincts to run had taken over too quickly. His processor quickly begin noting similarities between Shockwave and Longarm Prime. He contemplated lies and truth, and wished for the chance to ask for answers from the source. _ I was infatuated with the idea of you, was any of it real? _

_ Were you interested in me too? Genuinely? _

He thought of the brief moments he had actually seen Shockwave, when the other killed him. Blurr relived hurt and betrayal, denial and bitterness, because could he not have one happiness in life?

Blurr thought and reflected, and felt with all of his spark, and the Matrix latched on and listened. It guided Blurr down, had the mech grasp it in one servo, had him place the other above Shockwave’s empty spark chamber. Shockwave’s body was engulfed in a light blue glow as it was healed. Blurr felt warmth as the Matrix’s energy worked itself over ruined melt and protoform, felt the Matrix draw from his own will and spark to guide itself through the process. It took only a few moments, but Blurr felt like he had been connected to the Matrix for an eternity.

Prima approached, kneeling beside Blurr as she placed Shockwave’s spark pack in its chamber. They both stood. Blurr returned to himself as she spoke. 

_ “Awake, Shockwave. There is work to be done. You will carry forth the legacy of Amalgamous Prime.” _

That red optic onlined, and Blurr felt a torrent of hating and loving and questioning words rise in his vocalizer. He opened his intake to speak, and paused as his derma caught over his changed dentae. 

Blurr ran a diagnostic over his systems. It was different; _ he was different. _ There was a pulse from the Matrix and Blurr understood that the relic had changed him as it repaired and changed Shockwave. His plating, though barely any heavier, he simply knew was now sturdier. He could cast the range of his sensory horn even farther; his audials and optics were now stronger.

The biggest change though was a whole new system that worked its way through his body. He removed one servo from the Matrix, stared at his digits as he protracted hollow claws. He ran his glossa over elongated canines within his mouth. 

His systems were happily plugging away at toxin production, of a solution that would spoil both energon within mecha’s lines, and in its consumable forms. Blurr felt a fear of himself. 

“And I take the place of?”

_ “Liege Maximo. _”

Blurr’s engine stuttered. Shockwave pulled himself up from the floor, and his antenna widened in what Blurr guessed was an expression of shock; that certainly was the emotion carrying in the familiar-but-not EM field Blurr could feel. Blurr could not pull his optics from Shockwave, even as he spoke to Prima. “He who manipulated the Fallen into murdering Solus Prime and the end of the First Council of Primus’ Will.” 

Prima placed an ethereal servo on Blurr’s shoulder pauldron. _ “Each Lord High Protector follows in the seat of the Fallen. They are the Prime of not only protection and of war, but also of redemption, as their loyalty to Cybertron and the Council they work with refutes the pain the Fallen caused the First Council. Liege Maximo suffered for his schemings, but his scheming is also what showed us fallible. The Council is about _ balance _ . The weaknesses of members need to be exposed.” _

Prima smiled at him as she squeezed his shoulder. _ “Not only that, but Liege Maximo was the Prime of upheaval. Which is what you two will be calling for as you return to the surface, in both factions, is it not?” _

Shockwave’s EM field steadied into the even presence Blurr had grown so used to expecting from Longarm Prime. “A Prime and Protector will lead us to better governance, but someone who follows in Liege Maximo’s legacy needs to incite a new era, is that correct?”

_ “Aye. You both represent two different Primes of change. Amalgamous, the physical shifter. And Liege Maximo, the schemer. However, it is the choice of each schemer if they use their talents for personal or societal gain.” _

Shockwave knelt, bringing his optic level to Blurr’s own. Blurr felt venom gather in his intake and his spark squeeze with a want he should ignore. Shockwave paused and then said, “We will be the check and balance for each other, if that is agreeable?”

“You are not Longarm.”

“No, I am not. Longarm was built from pieces of myself, a skeleton inspired by complete frame. I do enjoy working with you, Blurr, immensely.” 

Blurr knew if Shockwave was truly like Longarm that his statement meant more than it seemed to say at its surface level. He processor fired off countless questions, statements, rebuttals, and his vocalizer froze as he was ready to burst from emotion. 

But the Matrix of Leadership was in his servos. It told him there would be time to talk as they journeyed to the surface. Prima’s servo still rested on his shoulder, and she gave him a light push towards an exit before fading away. 

She was right; there was work to do.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm agent_blurr on twitter if you would like to say hello!


End file.
